Step Up Your Game
by Inkblot9
Summary: Written in response to the question, "Which member of your OTP rocks the Ferris wheel?" Modernized setting, pure fluff.


The plague of internal conflict was not one that Archie Haddock was unfamiliar with. In fact, it graced his conscience nearly every day. _Can I afford to sneak a splash of rum in my coffee this morning?_ he'd ask himself. _Is this old suit worth repairing?_ he'd wonder. _I know I ought to "be a gentleman", or whatever they call it, but would anyone really miss me if I didn't show up to Castoroili's thousandth dinner party?_ And so on.

If there was anyone who could sway his hapless decision-making, it was undeniably his Tintin, of course. Was it the younger man's endearing politeness, his mysterious charm, his uncanny ability to concoct a rational explanation for _anything_…or was it simply the Captain's undying lovesickness, gratitude, and pure affection for his partner that drew him under his influence every time?

Whatever the reason, the thought of a night out with Tintin eventually overrode his protests of "blue blistering barnacles, no, that's a ridiculous idea, why on earth would we want to do that?", not for the first time. Whatever the reason, Haddock now found himself hand-in-hand with his plucky lover, clumsily racing through an obscenely large crowd at an inhuman hour of the night. That, too, was far from a new sensation. The novelty was in the fact that they were running of their own accord, rather than being chased by criminals; and rather than a pistol in Tintin's jacket pocket, it was rolls of paper tickets in a rainbow of pastels.

Tintin was no child, though his physical appearance often led him to be perceived as such. However, his enthusiasm on this particular night—which he seemed to hold for everything from the flashy multicolored lights to the sweets of every description—was nothing short of boyish.

Yet, it was this sort of energy and life that the Captain had loved in him first, and it hadn't risen to such a level in years. Tonight the thrills of the early days of their friendship would blend together with the bliss of their blossoming romance. The notion made Haddock smile wider than he would usually allow himself in the presence of other people.

Also in similarity to many of their previous experiences, he had to admit, if only to himself, that on some level he was enjoying the chaos.

"Thundering_ typhoons_, Tintin!" he shouted between laughs and gasps for air. "Slow _down_, lad! Take pity on a poor old salt!"

"You're not old," came the chipper reply, and within moments Tintin lessened his pace to a stroll, falling in beside his companion. He flashed a bright grin, which paired rather attractively with his flushed cheeks.

Haddock chuckled. "Whatever you say, darlin'."

A few minutes passed in pleasant silence. The couple made their way out of the largest crowd and into a more open space, where a tall, rickety Ferris wheel loomed over their heads.

Tintin released his grip on his boyfriend's hand and turned to face him straight-on. "Oh, Captain, you've still got powdered sugar on your face!" he exclaimed with a giggle.

Haddock remembered in an instant the funnel cake they had shared—rather sloppily, he recalled with embarrassment. He rubbed his bearded cheek, grumbling. "Barnacles, aren't you gonna tell me where it is?" Pulling his hand back, he found it dusted white. "Did I get it?"

"Not quite," Tintin answered, raising an eyebrow.

"Dammit, Tintin, what are you—" He lifted his hand again, but Tintin grabbed it in the air before he reached his mouth.

"Allow me," the youth said, and he leapt forward to kiss the Captain full on the lips, swiping the salt-and-pepper hairs around his partner's mouth with his tongue. A few low sounds of pleasure bubbled from Haddock's throat before the younger man pulled back.

"Cheeky sod," the Captain said with a not-altogether-serious glare. "Ginger devil. Slippery son of a siren."

Tintin winked, now accustomed to being called such. What might have been an insult coming from anyone else was an endearment of the highest regard when it came from his Captain.

"There wasn't even anything left on my face, was there? You just wanted to pull a fast one, eh?"

Tintin did not answer with words. He only shrugged and licked his lips. Usually, he was the one to stick to the side of subtlety when it came to expressing their relationship in public, but apparently today was different.

When his lover inquired as to why, the redhead replied simply, "Well, it's a special night."

_Stepping up your game, are ye? _Haddock thought, smirking to himself. _Thundering typhoons, two can play at that!_

He glanced around, taking in his surroundings for inspiration. A low _ka-chunk, ka-chunk_ directed his eyes upward.

_Ah, that's the Ferris wheel starting up again,_ he noted…and then an idea struck him.

"Say, Tintin," he said, trying to sound as casual as possible, "how's about we ride that one?" He tilted his head to the side and upwards, further indicating his intentions.

"The Ferris wheel?" The younger of the two followed his partner's gaze with interest. "Are you sure, Captain? It's rather high up, isn't it?"

Haddock scoffed. "Sure I'm sure! I've sailed waves likely twice that height without batting an eyelash," he boasted. "What d'you take me for? Some sort'a lily-livered coward?"

"No, not at all, but…"

Was that a hint of latent sarcasm in the lad's voice? Before the Captain could question it, Tintin shook his head.

"Never mind," he said. "It's a grand idea. _Allons-y!_"

Haddock could just picture the scene to come as Tintin passed a pair of tickets into his hand. Side-by-side, the pair of them would slowly ascend; perhaps their fingers would intertwine, perhaps he would cast an arm around Tintin's shoulders. It would grow chillier as they rose, the early autumn breeze would tousle their hair, and they would draw closer for warmth. And if the Famous, Intrepid Boy Reporter happened to drop his façade of eternal bravery…if he showed any sign of anxiety at the dramatic height…his faithful Captain would be there to ease his tension with a tender kiss…and then…

"Hey! Captain! Yoo-hoo! Earth to Moon-Rocket!"

The sound of fingers snapping returned Haddock to the present and the scarlet to his cheeks. As he regained his awareness and sat himself down in the cold metal seat beside his partner, he realized Tintin still had the clear upper hand in his invented competition. The ginger remained complacent as ever, not to mention clearly amused by his companion's actions.

_Don't mess it up now, Archibald! _the Captain urged himself. _Be a man! Be a _Haddock_!_

Another _ka-chunk, ka-chunk_ marked the beginning of their ascent. The younger man smiled to the elder, who in turn did his best to hide a shaky gulp. The ride had not looked this fast from the ground—the ground that was now rapidly shrinking below their feet…

Would Tintin notice if he gripped the bar just a little tighter? A rickety old thing, this wheel—far from the standard of quality that a seasoned traveller such as himself was used to. Someone would have to look into oiling the cogs, or whatever one was supposed to do to fix such a gadget. He would suggest it to whoever was waiting for them once they touched back down. Oh, _barnacles_, it was a long way down now…Whose idea was it to build this sort of contraption, anyway? What twisted sort of pirate decided this kind of thing was supposed to be _fun_? Someone of lesser experience could get hurt on a thing like this. There ought to be a law against such dangers to the public.

A gentle hand brushed his now-white knuckles, and Haddock turned to face his lover. Tintin's eyes were shining, his smile was radiant, and the air was tossing his ever-present quiff _just so_. He was beautiful, and, just as always, he passed his bright outlook on to anyone in his presence.

Confidence now restored—or so he hoped—the Captain sandwiched Tintin's hand between his own and returned his smile. Truly, it was a remarkable night he was spending with the man he loved, and all was well—

All at once, with a noticeable jolt, the ride came to a stop; and be it dumb luck or the Haddock family curse, Tintin and Archibald were at the very top.

"Just look, Captain!" the youth gasped excitedly. "What a marvelous view!"

"Mm, oh yes, quite," Haddock mumbled back, trying his darnedest to keep his focus straight forward and not on the teeny-tiny cars and lights below for the sake of his stomach. He was deeply regretting that funnel cake now.

The breeze was picking up, sending a shiver down the ex-sailor's spine. It was too much all at once, the whooshing and the racketing and what-have-you. The guy who designed this thing must have be a sadist. No sane person could possibly be _enjoying_ this. The hooligans operating it down below had better hurry up, or—

Were they—was their seat _rocking_? The wind wasn't that strong, surely? Was he losing his mind?

"Tintin—"

The remainder of his inquiry died on Haddock's lips. It was _Tintin_ who was slowly moving back and forth, carrying the balance of the gondola with him, all with that stupid, lovely, awful smirk still plastered across his face!

"Tintin, what in blue blazes d'you think you're doing?"

No words, no response. Only the rocking, only the rattling, only the dizzying, unearthly height…

"Tintin, that's not funny."

"You're not _scared_, are you, Archie?"

"N—n-no, I'm not scared! I'm simply…simply concerned for the—You're not listening, are you? Billions of blistering barnacles, lad, will you stop that before we both go flying? You blockheaded adrenaline junkie, you thundering thrill-seeker, you—Tintin! TINTIN!"

* * *

"I'm sorry, Captain." The remorseful sigh that Tintin paired with his words was almost out of character for him. Though he did not steer his gaze from the road ahead, Haddock could tell there was pain in his eyes, though he couldn't imagine why.

"Sorry?" the Captain questioned. "Sorry for what, lad?"

"This…this was supposed to be a nice night, you know? Time just for us to go out and enjoy ourselves. And then I got overexcited, and…and not half cocky, and I botched it." Another sigh. "This wasn't even what you wanted to do in the first place. I'm sorry, well, for being so _selfish_."

"Oh, come on, now, enough of that."

They were at a stoplight, now, and Tintin turned from the wheel to show Haddock his surprise.

"Has anything we've done in our blasted lives ever been perfect? So what if you got a bit too big for your britches and I acted like a yellow-bellied lout? So what if you chose where to go and I could do nothing but follow? 'S the way things've always been. We wouldn't be here tonight if I'd never followed you down to what seemed like my doom at the time. I wouldn't have it any other way."

The younger man looked on the verge of tears—happy ones, now, grateful ones, not bitter or regretful ones. The smile came back to grace his face, the smile that suited him so much better than a second-guessing frown ever could.

"I love you, dearest, no matter where we go or what inane escapades you happen to drag me into. And when all was said and done, I _did_ have a grand time tonight."

"Did you really?"

"I did." The Captain nodded firmly. "So quit your cryin' and chin up, alright? There's a big ol' master bedroom waiting for us back home to chase away the last of your silly doubts."

The redhead chuckled with relief. Just before the light turned green, he lifted his partner's hand to his lips, kissing it ever-so-gently.

"Happy anniversary, Captain."


End file.
